"The Fay at Brightwater Cascades" by David Michael

First night, I peered through the glistening leaves
and wondered at the song she sang.
Amber it was, and burnished with gold;
flowing like honey, as the North Wind cold.
It bid me hearken to her story unfold
and I found that I wanted to stay.

Listening long availed me not;
her song was drawn from ancient tongues.
Yet see I did the tear that fell
from her bluejay eyes like a crystal bell.
And of a sudden I rose with a foolish yell
with a hand outstretched for to help.

Whirling like a jeweled flame, she
flipped my heart with a startled glance.
Splashed through the pond and into the trees;
worried, she watched from a branch on her knees
as I stood heartbroken and begged her, "Please
don't leave, I don't think I could find you again."

Surely I heard the waterfall purr,
lest truly it came from that beauty above.
She smiled, laughed like a deep-flowing brook;
said not to worry, she liked how I looked.
She'd followed me often on the paths I'd took
as I'd wandered far through Faery Realm.

We talked not long 'til blushing, both,
we waltzed beneath the waterfall -
she smelled like blossoms and roses in spring!
Her steps were strong as they made her dress swing,
while her eyes let me know that I'd rescued a queen -
'til the dawn when she left with a kiss.

Evening saw me return to the pond,
where I waited with sighs at the stars and the trees,
while the shimmering sparkle on the cascade's sheets
rose and fell with the course of the moon.
In silence the daystar, awash with wine,
peaked over the mountains, but alone I remained.

I waited the next day, and on for a week,
but never she came in the gloaming or light.
My dreams cast out nets each lonesome night
for her nuzzling nose and silken red sigh.
I searched for the dance, for the rhythm of her love,
but it slipped, like the wind, from my grasp.

Being a traveler, that's what I did,
through all the green corners of Faery Realm,
'til over the mountains I reached the sea,
where mermaids play with the otters so free
and bat their eyes at men like me
as they toss their hair flirtatiously;
oh, their blue hair and eyes, and their silvery skin!
But it wasn't the same, so I turned inland.
Four times came autumn and the owls' call
'til again I stood by the waterfall.

Its glassy sheets still fell rock to rock;
dancing,
plish-plashing
so gaily to mock
my face with its laugh lines
forgotten and pale.
Joy without her seemed a faint-heart betrayal.
So I sat by a tree with my pack and my staff
and sighed at the clouds and the moon.

First a giggle, and then the scent
of apples and rose petals floating in wine.
Turned, but too late! The minx had pounced.
'Round my neck wrapped her arms as she prettily flounced
down beside me and kissed me with love that trounced
all the melancholy out of my heart.

Once, at last, I kissed her back
while we danced beneath the waterfall.
Shining above was the pearl white moon
and round us we heard the glade-crickets croon
as the fireflies flitted across the lagoon;
and wordless we spoke with our eyes.

When on the bank we rested dry,
fingers playing in each other's hair,
she asked me if I wanted to stay
and make my home in the forests of Fae,
where, together, our love would grow by the day
and we'd each belong to the other.

Sick all a sudden, I sat up straight
and cursed what lay in my cartographer's bag.
A royal decree had fast-bound my fate
to map all of Faery for five years straight,
And now I was done, so couldn't she wait?
For I had to return to my King!

"Go?" Her eyes could scarce have been
less sad than rain on an empty beach.
They welled with the hurt of so many loves gone
that up rose a wall 'round her heart tall and strong
to keep her from ever becoming Love's pawn,
to keep her from being betrayed.

See, no magic fay could ever that long
hold passion back, lest she be consumed.
When, dancing, a fay finds love's first delight,
her heart takes flight to such a grand height
that if it cannot alight on her lover forthright,
she must swiftly find another!

Now every time I smell the night
I think of her dance by the waterfall.
I smell it so often, as now I trudge
through rolling leagues to my King and my judge.
My honor is true, but my heart oh! it aches
for the one who for love was unable to wait.

Her footsteps I chased through forest and glen
'til her track finally vanished from under the moon.
Autumn blazed color on forest and dell,
but though the leaves danced my own heart fell,
so fast-wrapped in winter it was.

When spring came bubbling back through the fens
and waved in meadow-valleys pungent and sweet,
I writhed at all the sunny thaws and mirth,
that, so inconsiderate of my dearth,
sang loudly of love for all, for all,
sang loudly of love for all.

As by me each day and each week softly roll,
I tear all the flowers from the garden of my soul.

This note I found as the morning dew dripped;
in my pack that night it had been slipped:
"A human you, a dryad me!
I should have known it could not be."

I grudge her nothing for the time we had
or for the delicacy of her love.
But the honey of her voice lies encased in my heart,
so thumping and hot, so tight and so sad,
and so bitter and hard to think of.

When e'er now a waterfall throbs in my ear
or the gray wind ruffles grass like her hair,
I think that just maybe, perhaps, I should go
and return to Faery some day on my own.
My royal service has not long to go.
My heart, though still hurt, is not dead nor stone cold.

I look at my stride: yes yes, it is long!
I look at my staff: yes yes, it is strong!
I look at my King, with his blessing in mind,
and I leave this time with a love not blind.